Always
by Tutups
Summary: PostDH. AU-Voldemort won. Drarry D/s. Scenes of NonCon & hints of DubCon. When Harry was given to Malfoy to as a slave he never dreamed to know anything but cruelty and humiliation at the hands of his once rival... Strange; the way things go, isn't it?


I Do Not Own Harry Potter, this is a Non-Profit Work of fanfiction that was written because the plot bunny was being unbearable. All credit to JK and Co.

**This Fic contains NonCon, DubCon, D/s, Slavery... **

**...Drarry, Snape/Hermione, Hinted Voldemort/Hermione if you squint, Harry/Ron (explicit noncon).**

You no like? You no read.

A/n: Sev got a mention in honour of his birthday... If anyone from the HP-verse deserves a great day, it's him.

* * *

Harry felt physically sick, cloying loneliness held his gut in a vice like grip and kept him in the clutch of terrified consciousness, even though he was trying to sleep. He had tried everything from counting in a foreign language to imagining himself in a more secure environment but the guilt alone kept his eyes well moisturised and open. He'd even, in an attempt to tire himself out, reached downwards that his fingers might slide below the elastic waist of his pyjama bottoms, and then he'd frozen as the shame gripped him and he pledged that he would never so much as consider such a disgusting action again. He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut praying for some kind of deliverance.

For the longest time he simply stayed in the foetal position and listened to the loudest silence he'd ever had the misfortune to hear. As if to torment him he heard the door ease open more slowly that he had ever believed possible- even on its ancient hinges. The sound of hard soles on the wooden floor made him jump repeatedly and in time with each one. Eventually the footfall quietened and Harry knew the approaching person was stood on the dark rug that lay innocuously at the side of the bed.

A gentle fingertip brushed his cheek and his eyes flew open almost instinctively accompanied by a deep flush of humiliation- he'd failed, disobeyed.

"You were told, to sleep…" Harry recognised the slight slur, the man was drunk, but there was no accompanying smell of alcohol. A deep sense of foreboding invaded his mind and made his chest constrict painfully. He closed his eyes in an attempt to regulate the emotions he knew would be projected from them, failed, then opened them and uttered the only excuse he had- the truth.

"I, I tried…" the hand trailed down to his shoulder and he bit his bottom lip to stop himself uttering another sound as the quilt cover (seemingly, entirely of its own accord) eased off his shoulder and landed on his waistline.

"Did you, did you really?" he managed a small nod and that hand went even lower until it rested on his abdomen.

"Really, I did, Master, please-" the shushing noise killed any words Harry had wanted to say in his throat and he closed his mouth reverently.

"You tried your best, and so have nothing to-fear, for I cannot ask for that which you are… incapable of." He understood enough that when relief washed over him he knew it wasn't inappropriate.

"Master, master, thank you, I, thank-" his voice cracked with gratitude, "you…" Arms circled him as the man sat down on the edge of the bed.

"We lost one today," Harry's nausea returned with a vengeance, "Severus decided to crack," the man's arms tightened around him, "he gave Granger a wand and told her to run, she tried to argue, refused to leave and in doing so broke the taboo. She was in agony…"

"Master…" Harry tried in vain to comfort the man but it was as if he wasn't there.

"I was made to question them first, that's how I know, I think he had started to care too much. He cried for her. _I've never seen him cry before._ It's things like this that terrify me, he's still in solitary. I wonder how long I can hide how I feel for you, how long before _I crack_… and we both go that way as well."

"Master?" Harry's incredulity was obvious in his tone, the man had never said such things aloud, and subtly the grip around him went from comforting to threatening.

"Your silence, pet, promise it to me." Harry couldn't breath, couldn't speak. Their eyes met, Harry looked away, and the man loosed his grip slightly. "Our lives depend on this, what I say to you must not go any further, swear it to me!" Harry whimpered at the force in the man's voice as he nodded, petrified.

"I keep my Master's secrets, it is my duty, I promise, Master, I promise. I swear, never…" he was babbling, his incoherency a mixture of fear and lack of sleep. The touch of lips on his head helped him relax somewhat even though he continued on the almost silent tirade.

"Hush, I know, I know you, I understand your fear," Harry was full on sobbing at this point and his stomach was making serious threats to empty itself violently, "you have nothing to fear, you're mine-"

"Yours." Even in his hysteria he found the will to answer, he'd been made to say the word many times; somewhere along the line it had become instinct. Master had fallen into a pensive silence.

"You've been with me how long now, Harry?" He froze, he didn't technically have a given name anymore, and the use of his old one shocked him slightly so his answer was hesitant.

"One year, Master, One year, four months and fifteen days." The man nodded absently.

"It took them, what? Three months to break you, then you spent another three in training."

"Yes, Master." He wasn't proud of his stubbornness and the conversation was getting to him, he wondered if he might be sent away. The errant thought finally overwhelmed him completely and his stomach lurched. A small quantity of vomit sprayed quite far and he continued to retch, the taste of bile prominent in his throat. He blinked back tears in time to see the former contents of his stomach disappear, he was shaking, crying and incapable of thinking clearly.

"I'm sorry, Master, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" he was gasping for breath between retching and crying, "I'msorryI'msorr-"

"Shhh, relax, try to relax, it's ok, you're ok, relax-" a hand was rubbing his back gently in what he supposed was an attempt to calm him down, while he mentally berated himself for his lack of control, he managed to take some comfort in it.

"I've been thinking, pet," Master wasn't simple he knew the use of his name had bothered Harry and he needed his slave calm, "you've always been good, never complained," Harry balked at the idea he might complain; he knew the state some of the other pets were kept in, the memory of his other owners made him shudder, "I'd like to think you at least content," Harry nodded vehemently into Master's chest, Master took care of him, kept him well fed and watered and ensured he was always dressed cleanly and warmly. When Harry performed his primary duties for his Master; the man was always gentle and took great pains to prepare Harry properly. When Harry did something wrong Master punished him fairly and with extreme care. How could Harry not be _at least content? _Harry knew better than to take his Master's attentions for granted.

"I think it is time I grant you that which you deserve, pet, look at me." Harry didn't dare disobey the order, not when its intent was so clear. He finally willed his eyes upwards, making mental note of his disrespect should Master see fit to call him on his punishments as he was regularly inclined to do, Master looked down at him but Harry couldn't hold it. A lot of respect and just a trace of fear forced him to avert his gaze. "I wish you to call me by my given name," Harry's heart dropped out of his chest, he couldn't believe… just couldn't get his head around- "are you listening? From now, when we are alone and in here," he tapped Harry's temple gently, the slave blushed furiously at catching sight of the compassionate smile on Master's lips, "You are to call me by my given name," he remembered, that once when he had been barely out of training he had, accidentally, slipped up- called his first Master by his name- had gotten a heavy belting for disrespect (for having the audacity to dare taint his master's name with his _filthy and unrepentant_ _Half Blood Gryffindor _tongue) and still had the mark from it, he froze; heart pounding, head spinning from fighting the compulsion to obey Master's request, and hating himself for it. He must have sensed Harry's distress. "It's ok, pet, I wish it."

Harry's stomach twisted and his mouth dried out.

"D...Draco." Harry thought it a good name; a strong, dark, pure-blood name that he had no right to defile but he physically couldn't refuse Master's order, "Dr-aco." The name felt oddly, and surprisingly, pleasant on his tongue. "Draco." He managed it without a stutter which seemed to please his Master.

"Good boy, such a good boy…" he didn't take offence even though he was in his mid twenties, in fact, he revelled in Draco's praise, shifting absently as the man's hand stroked his hair. He purred at the sensation and snuggled closer still to his Mast- to Draco.

Draco, saying the name did suit his voice, it sounded almost musical to his ears.

He wondered what the man would do should he ever call him by some diminutive or other_. _He shivered slightly and put the thought from his mind.

Eventually as his master built a rhythm of petting him lightly he yielded to the embrace of sleep, exhaustion hurt, but Master's arms never moved from around him.

=X=

Harry woke up still snuggled into his Master, still on his Master's bed; the man was smiling down at him. He opened his mouth and a yawn escaped. His hand flew to his lips.

"I'm sorry, Mast-" his mortification only grew, "D-Draco."

Master loosened his grip and indicated Harry to climb out of the bed which he did quickly.

"I must get very lonely here." Draco mused. Harry froze. "Tell me?"

"I can't complain, Mast-" Harry was used to addressing the other man as such, it had become survival instinct, it was a habit that was never meant to be broken. "Draco." It didn't break; it just cracked slightly but a start; was a start.

"Do you think you might benefit from some company?" Harry almost shrugged.

"You alone are company enough for me, Draco." He barely hesitated that time. The blonde smiled almost sadly.

"I don't think I am," Harry looked alarmed at his statement, "I've decided, today, when I'm finished I'm going to the centre to find you, shall we say, a brother."

Harry knew arguing wasn't worth it so he nodded using a smile to mask inner turmoil.

=X=

The free time he had that day had been spent praying to any deity that was willing to listen that his Master wasn't bringing a stranger in because he was bored. Harry didn't think he could handle that.

When he felt the approach of Draco's magical signature through the unforced, slightly empathic, almost- telepathic connection they shared; he froze up. That morning's conversation seemed to be on fast-forward **and** repeat in his head. He slipped out of the lounge where he'd been curled up on the rug in front of the small fireplace, his hands worked to flatten his robes and hair absently as he walked the corridor; he flitted into the entrance hall and hid in the shadows. If Draco noticed his arrival he didn't draw attention to it, Harry would always be grateful for that allowance.

Harry's eyes roved the room until he spotted what he might have once deduced to be a pile of rags and a wig. It moved and he jumped lightly.

"This is my home, you are here to work," Harry paid vague attention to the speech but most of his attention was taken with watching the newcomer, "I allow neither digressions nor disrespect, _look at me when I am speaking to you!" _Harry almost fell to his knees in reaction to the anger but a flickering look and the slight shaking of Draco's head stopped him. He inclined his own head and bent his knees slightly in silent submission.

The creature was shaking violently and at first Harry thought it was fear. Through the layer of grime on the redhead's face he recognised anger and tensed, preparing for the worst, he sent up a prayer that he wouldn't have to reveal himself to defend Draco- that Ron would control himself. Ron moved as if to stand and Harry's blood turned to ice in his veins. His mind went blank as he watched, adrenaline cursed through him and he reacted impulsively. In less than a second he flung himself across the room and between the two; taking the right hook intended for Draco's jaw. He glimpsed Ron's stunned surprise as he tumbled backwards _straight into Draco's arms. _He let out an almost feral cry as he launched himself forwards. His fist connected with Ron's gut and the redhead dropped like a stone. He heard the splutter of a name he barely recognised as his own as he allowed himself to fall with Ron, still holding the rag that seemed to be posing as a shirt of some description.

"You should know," their eyes met briefly but Harry ignored the myriad of emotions he saw in Ron's expression, "I'd willingly kill to protect _our _master." And he let Ron fall as he himself eased backwards to the floor. Ron glared at him and Harry glowered right back, Ron moved back so Harry let himself relax momentarily. What Harry wasn't aware of almost killed him, he had no way of knowing, Ron wasn't broken and he sure as hell wasn't willing to go down without a fight. The redhead jumped to his feet and dived at Draco. Again Harry responded without thinking, Ron's fingers closed around his neck and Harry's glasses were knocked askew. He fought with everything he had, drawing on reserves of energy he hadn't even been aware of, and then it happened. Harry's magical core reacted. For years it had been bound and had lain dormant but it had flared to life when he was in desperate need. Ron was flung across the length of the hall and crashed into the hard stone wall.

Harry was breathing hard, couldn't even haul himself upright, shaking violently he waited for… something. When a hand touched his shoulder he tensed; so much so, that his leg started to cramp agonizingly. He didn't cry out but a pained expression found its way onto his face. He felt the familiar wave of benevolent magic and his whole body relaxed against his will. He didn't dare move.

"Stand up." There was no anger in Draco's voice, disappointment maybe, Harry squirmed internally but did as bid. Arms wrapped around him and a whisper in his ear "you didn't have to do that-" He wanted to protest but didn't have the nerve, "go up to bed, I'll be there in a bit." Harry's heart sank. He stepped back, bowed respectfully, and fled not risking even a glance backwards.

=X=

Harry lay in the bed for what felt like forever. His mind was whirring round in circles. _Ron had been caught, clearly hadn't been completely broken, he'd attacked Draco, Ron had almost killed Harry, Harry's magic had broken free of the binding charm; he couldn't believe any of it. _And then the train of thought started again.

He jumped off the bed and manoeuvred onto his knees as the door swung open. A hand touched his head and traced over his neck. He panicked. It felt wrong, unfamiliar. His head snapped up to see Ron looking down at him.

"He got you good, didn't he?" Harry sprang to his feet, anger and fear spurring him on. He slammed Ron into the wall.

"Why couldn't you just-" Ron bruised his knuckles trying to fight Harry off, "behave, why did you have to be such an _idiot_?"

"_ME!" _Harry frowned in confusion, "what about you? All over the filthy death eater like a rash." Harry's hand found Ron's neck.

"What did you do? Where is he?" Ron smirked and Harry tightened his grip significantly. "_Where is he?"_ Ron wasn't smiling long; in fact, he was gasping for air and scratching at Harry's arms listlessly. Harry wasn't expecting Ron to kick out. The next thing he was aware of he had been thrown to the ground and Ron was straddling his hips. He bucked violently but he couldn't throw the bastard off. "GET OFF OF ME!" Ron ignored him.

"What? It's pretty clear you're no house worker, and you must be good or Malfoy wouldn't have you." Harry didn't stop fighting, all he could think of was Draco and that he wouldn't stop fighting. Ron's hand tore at his shirt and Harry cried out. Fingers trailed over his torso as he struggled and Ron laughed vindictively. He tried to lash out but his arms were pinned to his sides by Ron's legs. "Now, let's see whether the head murderer's favourite lapdog got the best prize-"

"He's not like that," Harry was still struggling, but he knew he was losing, "he's decent and he-" Harry's voice peaked, "fair…" Harry knew arguing wouldn't help but he wasn't going to hear Draco being slandered and not defend the man. Ron shifted and Harry was rolled onto his front. He froze completely, his heart actually stuttered. Harsh hands yanked at his trousers and he squirmed furiously, somewhere along the line his yells had turned to sobs, he'd stopped trying to hold a conversation and had started to beg. "Stop, Ron, please, Ron, this is wrong, you have to stop, _Ron please-" _

"Shut up and spread." Harry couldn't, it felt like cheating, it sickened him to the bone. He couldn't stop thinking that this was Ron, the person he'd once considered a brother, his best friend. He couldn't stop wondering why. He ran out fight as Ron's hands forced his legs apart.

"Do what you want," tears landed on the oak in front of his face, "but don't expect me to respond." Ron's hands were everywhere at once. He thrust himself into Harry who screamed in agony but remained unaroused. Ron was getting frustrated as he brutalised his former friend. Harry's tears continued to stream down his face and onto the floor as he let go of consciousness, whimpering softly.

"Master…" his last prayer before he blacked out was for Draco.

=X=

Harry woke up warm, but he wasn't thinking straight, he thrashed violently. Someone grabbed his wrists and he screamed, pulling and writhing blindly, not daring to open his eyes. His scream filled with agony as pain ripped though his lower back.

"Hush," he wasn't listening, "it's ok, you're ok, I promise, no one's going to hurt you, pet, I promise, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harry didn't stop fighting, all he could think of was his Master, he might not be worth the mans- wait! Shock broke through the barriers of his mind. He tumbled backwards off the bed and put himself into the old position; on his knees with his head touching the ground. He felt so ashamed, he didn't want to look up; he'd let someone else touch him, he'd broken his oath, he was used goods, _dirty, filthy, a good for nothing whore_. He hoped they would just put him to sleep quickly; it was all he had left to hope for. "Stand up." Harry didn't dare disobey, even though he wasn't sure his legs would hold him for long. "Tell me what happened." It wasn't a request. Harry felt his chest tighten and the story came out in a flood of tears and pain. He'd known he was weak, his legs didn't hold him for more than a second after he finished. Draco's arms wrapped around him as they eased to the ground, he cried tearlessly, not snuggling into the embrace nor smiling. _He just wanted it to be over. _

Eventually he yielded but he still couldn't draw comfort from Draco's hold.

"You fought, you never gave him power over you-" Harry spluttered mid sob but didn't contradict the man, "you did all you could." Harry didn't argue, he had fought, even though it hadn't been good enough- he'd lost. "You're safe, he won't touch you again," the blond lifted Harry's head up so their eyes met, "on my magic, pet." Harry felt the blood drain from his face before he was pulled into a tight embrace. It hurt, he was scared, but he couldn't let go. This might have been the last time Draco would touch him, he wasn't expecting to have a purpose after what he'd done, he didn't feel he deserved one.

"You need to rest, climb up onto the bed," Harry obeyed mechanically thinking how right his fears were, "try to sleep." he nodded as the cover was pulled over him, Draco didn't even touch him before he left.

Harry did sleep eventually, once he'd cried himself out.

=X=

The following week was agony for everyone in the Malfoy household.

Draco refused to touch Harry, fearing perhaps rightly so, in case Harry went to pieces. He knew the trauma Harry had been through first hand and it had taken months before he was even comfortable allowing his own mother to touch him, the fact that Harry was already willing to let Draco near just scared the master of the manor even more.

Harry hadn't functioned properly since that night; nightmares plagued his sleeping hours and flashbacks his waking ones. Draco wouldn't even look at him and he missed the man; missed his warmth, kindness, hold, he missed the man's whispers as he was taken in that bed, missed his concerned look the morning after, missed… everything.

Ron had been physically bound to the slave quarters of the house; he couldn't breathe freely without being yelled at by someone. His whole body ached and he woke regularly feeling as if he was in hell. He didn't care. All he could think was of Harry; Harry had been broken by them. He needed to get out, get Harry out, if he ever healed. After the third day he knew it was unlikely. By the fifth he'd given up.

=X=

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, one day after his work was finished, Draco visited Harry in his chambers. He'd never done that before; he'd always maintained that Harry needed a personal space where he couldn't be touched. When he entered the room Harry was on his knees in an instant. Draco ignored the flash of anger in his gut; he told himself it wasn't Harry's fault.

"As you were." He watched as Harry climbed back onto the bed and curled up as if to protect himself. "How are you?" Harry didn't look at him but spoke through the duvet.

"No pain for two days, sir, still having bad dreams but no flashback today so far, I keep trying to not sleep but it always gets me." He sounded bitter at that one. Draco put his hand out experimentally and Harry backed away. He sighed to himself; he had been right in his assumption.

"If you need anything, I'm here." He felt so damn helpless.

"Thank you, sir," Draco finally cottoned on.

"Why do you, keep calling me that?"

"Sir?" That would have been adorable if Harry didn't seem so scared.

"That. I told you, you may use my name, why aren't you?" Harry ducked back under the duvet. Draco waited patiently, eventually Harry answered. Draco had to strain to hear through the muffling effect of the duvet.

"Not worthy, I'm filthy, horrible, disgusting-"

"Who told you that?" Draco couldn't soften his tone in time. Harry flinched under the cover; his voice was tight when he answered.

"Just know, sir, sorry."

"There's nothing wrong with you, pet, nothing." Harry didn't react; it was as if he hadn't heard. "Listen to me, you're still mine." He waited but Harry didn't answer. Bile seemed to be rising up his throat. He had to change tact quickly. "Do you have any questions?" there was no movement, "anything?" he needed to know Harry was still thinking for himself.

"Magic?" Draco flinched. "Will I be-" Harry couldn't finish.

"Magic cannot be bound twice; I suspect a wand has already been made for you."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to, just reacted, sorry."

"I know, I just wish…" he let his voice filter away slowly, he needed to know but Harry needed to feel secure enough to tell him freely. He noticed Harry's sudden interest easily; the slave had always been easy to read. He sent a flickering look Harry's way having pre-empted the blush that blossomed on his cheeks. Any other time and Harry would have been between his knees, this time Draco stopped himself; barely.

"Sir?" It was nice to see Harry looking curious without the usual deference and fear that accompanied it.

"Think carefully, you don't have to answer me if you feel you can't or wouldn't like to," he ignored Harry's sharp intake of breath, "tell me, if you will, why when defending me against the newcomer," he wasn't sure Harry had recognised his old friend and he didn't want to broach the subject, "your magic reacted, but you wouldn't defend yourself in the same manner?"

If Harry had been told to think of a list of one hundred questions he might have expected from- Draco, that one wouldn't have even been in the running; not by a long shot.

It seemed so strange a thing to ask; in training he had been told, repeatedly, that in Master's defence any action was admissible and that it wasn't uncommon for slaves to forfeit their lives in their owners defence. He had also been told, time after time and long before being enslaved, that he was unimportant and his own life or comfort was inconsequential. The final nail in the proverbial coffin had been the iron clad rule- _no magic!_

It took a while for him to realise what that throwaway comment meant, he wasn't in trouble for it, a wand was being made for him. He hesitated wondering, exactly, what such a thing would mean. Finally, he put it aside and focused on the conversation.

"Defend ones Master before oneself. My life is nothing, nothing in comparison to yours, Sir." Then he realised. "D- Draco." It seemed his slip up had gone unnoticed or, at least, would go unpunished. His heart twanged painfully; clearly Draco didn't care enough to punish him. The thought appalled him more that was strictly proper. He snuck a peek over the duvet behind which he'd hidden for most of the conversation. Draco noticed him and smiled warmly. Harry almost smiled back before he stopped himself; no matter what the man said Harry knew- he didn't deserve kindness.

"Do you mind if I…" he indicated to touch Harry's face. The slave thought he knew better than to deny the man access to his own property. He pushed the duvet away from his face and lifted his head slightly wishing the urge to cry wasn't so strong. Draco's hand slipped until it was resting on his neck, the man cupped Harry's chin gently and guided his face forward. The kiss was fleeting but promising. Harry couldn't help feeling dirty but he didn't try to escape Draco's grasp. The man smiled at him encouragingly and Harry blinked owlishly. It took a second for him to catch up. All he had to do was lean forward slightly before arms surrounded him. It all hit him like a tidal wave.

"Master." The soft gasp only catalysed his tears, he was weeping furiously, and his fears. "Draco." Again he could barely keep his voice natural sounding between silent sobs. What shocked him most was the reaction from his Master; he'd expected, at the very least, to be flung away in disgust. The reality was exactly the opposite. He looked up and Draco wiped a tear away from his eye; warmth filled Harry the likes of which he'd never before known. Finally, he knew what he wanted- needed. He leaned forward even more making his expression and poise as provocative as he could. Master's eyes widened dramatically. "Please?" He hadn't meant to sound _quite_ so desperate. Draco was far from obtuse, he stood up easily. Harry's heart sank but Draco looked relieved.

"Not here, come with me." Draco knew Harry would need his slavery reaffirming, which meant he would have to be harsh; it meant he would have to dominate Harry completely. The though didn't sit too well with him.

Harry slipped out the bed without a shred of embarrassment, why should he be just because he was naked? It was nothing his Master hadn't seen before.

Draco's eyes roved and Harry blushed with pleasure, his eyes were drawn downwards and he gulped in anticipation, Draco was already well aroused. Something in Harry stirred and his elation only increased for now, even if Draco never touched him again, he had what he had been praying for.

=X=

They were in the play room, Harry didn't even think to question it. He knew the room intimately and it held no hidden horrors. His eyes found the collection of whips, belts, paddles and other related paraphernalia on the walls. He would feel their caress before the end of his time there, he hoped.

Draco turned to face him, wand in hand. A hand flitted through Harry's hair; fingers caressed his neck and neckline. He'd never removed his collar and it shifted gently against his skin. Draco fingered the talisman that hung there. Harry didn't need to look; he knew the inscription perfectly.

_Esclave__ personnel de Monsieur Draco Malfoy _

_Obéissant, dévoué, fidèle._

Harry still smiled at it. The multiple meanings had been explained in great detail as had exactly what it meant and why it had been written; _en la langue __maternelle__ de la __famille,_ inthe family tongue.

He was expected to abide by his duty to his Master. He had to trust his Master blindly. He should have been willing to sacrifice his life, soul, blood, his… everything for his Master without question. He had to be faithful, loyal to his Master above all else (even himself). He was not for loan. He belonged to his Master and his Master alone. Before Ron no one else had laid so much as a lust- filled look on him. That was the main reason he'd been so beside himself at Ron's actions and his own weakness.

Those words had been written especially for him, branded upon his heart and his mind, he didn't need to be able to read them to know them. It was an honour for anyone, but especially a slave, to be bound as one of the family.

That was what it meant; it meant he would never be left behind.

He had been drilled for months in the language; it had gotten so far he'd almost forgotten how to speak English. He could honestly say that he was fluent in both, even though French was very rarely used.

Draco's fingers traced the words and his lips framed them silently, Harry averted his gaze; embarrassed at his rather obvious reaction. Master smiled and kissed him thoroughly. For a moment Harry maintained his position then Draco demanded entrance and Harry yielded instantly. The Master's tongue mapped his slave's mouth expertly; Harry couldn't stop a small groan of pleasure escaping his throat. The expected punishment never came even though he felt his Master move to pull away for a second. Master stood back and curled his fingers around Harry's collar, he tugged ever-so-gently and Harry obeyed without thought.

The double bed looked so inviting in the candlelight, the issued order to stay in his kneeling position on the floor overrode any of Harry's own desires.

"Pleasure me." Draco's tone was harsh but the caress of his fingers on Harry's face was gentle. Harry eased forward and well practiced fingers unfastened his Master's belt and trousers with ease. They fell to the floor lightly but Harry paid them no mind. His finger hooked over the elastic of Draco's underwear and he pulled gently. He blinked slowly; savouring the moment. Easing forward he opened his mouth; his teeth brushed the sensitive flesh, he felt Draco move deeper into his mouth. His breathing had become erratic and his breath hot. He could hear Master's light moans of pleasure. He started to suck gently but almost let go when his hair pulled tight on his head, it didn't hurt, he was just surprised by it. Draco was starting to ease in and out between his puckered lips; a slight bitterness in the back of his mouth told him he was doing something right. He lifted his tongue and caressed Draco's hard shaft with the tip. Draco bucked and Harry almost choked; but he didn't care. Draco's hold went from tight the caring in an instant; that look, just making sure he wasn't hurt. Then the nod, an order to pull away, Harry didn't think twice.

Draco's voice was hoarse, he'd forgotten- how? - How good Harry was, how sensual that mouth, those teeth, and that tongue could be. How Harry knew exactly what he liked, and didn't, his pleasures and pet peeves. He'd managed to forget how a single look could make him want to take his slave, how a tiny change in Harry's breathing or temperature made him irresistible.

"Come here." He didn't need pull Harry onto the bed; the slave was too fast for that. "I will have you first, then we shall talk about your, ah, misdemeanours." He'd expected the small smile to disappear but it didn't, it widened. Harry was strange one; Draco realised. He pushed Harry face down onto the bed and laid a palm over a bare left buttock. Harry squirmed under his touch.

"Be still." Harry calmed instantly. Draco trailed his fingers up Harry's back hitting every pleasure spot along the way; he hadn't expected Harry to be able to control himself. He reached across, manoeuvring himself just so that Harry would be teased incessantly, and picked up a leather object. "Lift."

Harry pushed himself upwards into his Master's body, fingers caressed his own arousal and he almost cried out, it seemed that a week without such pleasure made him unequipped to control his reactions, something slipped over the end of his cock and he attempted to rut against it. A sharp hiss of "_No,"_ stilled him. The leather tightened around him and he pined; all dignity forgotten.

Preparation never took long; one, two, three fingers in quick succession. Harry had expected it to hurt, again he was surprised. As soon as Draco touched the ring of muscle Harry relaxed. Draco's entrance was smooth and Harry didn't even wince. For a fleeting moment Draco stayed perfectly still; gauging Harry's reaction to the invasion. Then slowly, as gently as he could, Draco eased himself forwards. Harry's whole body reacted when he brushed the slave's prostrate. The spasms in Harry's body, while pleasing, made it difficult for him to concentrate on not hurting the dark-haired creature.

"Desist!" Draco knew he had nothing like that amount of self control. In a strange way he rather envied it, but not how it had been learnt.

Harry's body was on fire, every breath, every twitch of muscle, every heartbeat sent flares of fervour straight to his groin and not enough oxygen to his brain. Again and again Draco caressed Harry in a way only he had the right to. The fire was so hot, for a split-second it felt cleansing as if it was absolving him of his crimes, and then everything came into sharp focus with another jolt. He couldn't stand it, the fire that had been so beautiful before was now destroying him from the inside out, it was agony.

"Master…" He suddenly couldn't care less about decorum or any other such nonsense; he didn't just crave the release, he needed it.

"What?" The lust soaked whisper made him cry out.

"Master, please, I need, please…"

"What do you need?"

A sob caught in Harry's throat and they both lurched, he cried out at the sensation.

"The release, please, Master, _please_."

A finger traced the length of his crown jewels and Harry bucked violently. A sharp slap to the bare skin of his back told him he'd gone too far. Draco's movement had settled into a rhythm, he moved his hand with it, hating himself. To have Harry in such agony by his own hands killed a small part of him. The build up was intensifying and he knew he wouldn't last long. He found himself turning them both so they were laid together on their sides, the slight shift in Harry's position almost broke Draco's fragile control.

It had become palpable; he fingered the leather until he had a firm grip, he moved one last time and then… rapture, like pure unadulterated bliss, _the peak_. His whole body broke out in sweat and he curled into Harry and held the brunette flicking his wrist as he did so.

If his reaction had been intense, Harry's was even more so.

Harry forced himself backwards every muscle in his body tense; then he flung his head into Draco's chest, his climax splashed everywhere, as he screamed and finally, stilled. Neither of them moved for some time but finally Draco started to pull himself out. Harry whined at the loss but didn't move, he didn't think he physically had the energy. Draco leaned in and whispered in that growl Harry wouldn't even consider arguing with.

"You're mine!" it was all Harry could do to make his lips form the words and answer, just louder than a whisper, in absolute contentment.

"Yours, Master. Always."

=X=

Harry was struggling to stay upright as Draco dragged him forward by the hand. He tried to twist his wrist but Draco's grip just tightened, it hurt. He fought not to cry out as he was hauled past two or three dozen eager faces. Some he recognised; some he didn't. He hadn't been to one of these gathering in over eighteen months or so, he'd blocked most of it out, all her remembered was the agony, the ecstasy and the terror. The absolute, mind numbing, completely heart stopping, nauseating terror. Like nothing he'd ever come close to while in Draco's service; the soft undercurrent, conviction; of security, had been totally nonexistent.

He was yanked forward and cried out before he could stop himself. Draco rounded on him, he cowered under that look.

"Draco…" The almost- silent plea left his lips of its own accord. Time seemed to freeze around him, had he just- he must have gone green. Absently he registered displeased mutters somewhere beyond Draco. Draco advanced and he yielded until he was on his knees, shaking violently. Draco had forced his was into Harry's mind. _Only in private, official rules in public, you know that! _Harry flinched when Draco shifted. _I'm sorry. _Harry just let the muscles in his neck go despondently. They tensed against his will as his head was forced upwards. He didn't open his eyes.

"Look at me!" Harry had never heard Draco sound so vicious, suddenly he was back with his first placement and he hastened to obey hoping for some kind of lenience- not daring to expect it. Draco's hand smashed into the side of his face and Harry flew. That's what it felt like; like he'd been thrown clear of the atmosphere. The disorientation, cloudiness of his vision and reacting magic inside him made everything seem like a vacuum. He couldn't see or hear anything. Blood pounded in his ears and tears streamed down his face. He didn't even recognise to cry of pain as his own. He'd bitten the inside of his mouth on the way down. Draco was forcing the mind link and by extension Harry's mind to breaking point, using it to keep up a steady stream of _I'm sorry_'s and _it's OK_'s. It wasn't, it couldn't be until Harry had chance to check, to make sure… the horror of it overwhelmed him. If he hadn't protected it, despair washed over him; his own mind far more effective at causing him misery than any spell.

He tried to curl in on himself, protect himself from the worst of it, and hide his vulnerability from Draco. Out of nowhere he was jerked forward by the collar around his neck in a none-to-gentle way. One arm stayed cradled around his body as he crawled through the parting forest of legs and filth on the floor. He didn't look anywhere; he was more concerned with staying conscious.

Something was happening, something loud, angry, Harry couldn't follow it, and the last thing he heard was the blast of power on concrete before he blacked out.

=X=

When he came round everything was blurred, it took a few seconds for him to realise that his glasses were missing and there was some dry blood clinging to the right side of his head where it felt like something sharp had pierced to flesh. He didn't try to sit up, believing that he didn't have the energy and knowing it was safer that way too.

A sudden dark shape appeared as if behind a thick mist, calling. He could make neither head nor tail of the words or even of the tone. Shivers raced up and down his spine. Finally he let out a soft moan. His throat burnt at the action and his head span as someone pulled him upright but not to his feet. His glasses were pressed into his hand and he put them on tentatively then blinked at the sudden focus his eyes found.

"Hermione!" he could do nothing but gape, "I- I thought you were dead!" he couldn't keep the accusation from his voice.

"Not dead, sir just lost. Temporarily."

"What, does that even mean?" Sceptical wasn't the word for how Harry was feeling.

"I have been rehomed, Sir, taken from the traitor and placed in the care of the dark lord; I'm very lucky." The last bit sounded rehearsed as if she'd said it several times to lots of different people even though it was clear that deep down she didn't believe it.

"Hermione…" Harry couldn't keep the pain out of his voice, she wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really have to-" she indicated the side of his head and he nodded without thinking, "If a may?" he looked up at her thinking that she was more broken than he'd ever been; it surprised him. "Are you aware that you are with child, sir?" Harry gaped. _How had she…?_

He looked at her blankly and she gave him that look; that _come on; this is me you're talking to, now _look that always made him feel guilty.

"I. I suspected." That was the best he could do, he'd had no way of confirming. She nodded. "Erm, how long was I out?" Hermione smiled sadly and Harry's chest constricted.

"Three days, sir." Harry didn't know what happened, it was like something snapped.

"Stop calling me that, you and I are equals!" It was her turn to look awkward.

"Actually, Sir, _we_ aren't; not anymore." He stared _wha- _"It was deemed best for your emancipation to be made official while you were still unconscious," Harry had gone white, "So to ensure your physical and psychological wellbeing during the transition, Sir." Harry's hand flew to his stomach, Hermione noticed instantly. "Your child is perfectly safe, Sir, for as long as you wish it."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing, sir, just that there are other options for a man of your status."

"Like?" his voice had dipped dangerously low.

"Well, sir, not many men would consider carrying their own child, some consider it… unbecoming." She was on tenterhooks.

"If you are speaking the truth, then it doesn't matter what others think, does it?"

"Well, not in the grand scheme of things sir, but your life could become difficult."

"Yeah, I wonder what that's like (?)" she actually laughed before blushing furiously and bowing her head.

"If I may be excused sir, you have some papers to attend to and I am being called." Harry didn't need to ask who by.

"Go, _quickly_!" she was out the door when he called, "Thank you!" She was too far gone to reply; if she heard at all.

=X=

There were a half dozen letters and other odds and ends on the table. Harry leaned forward and picked them up then spread them on the bed before turning to the first with a pang as he recognised Draco's handwriting.

_Harry,_

_I hope you're still OK with me calling you that. First; Congratulations! You did it. You've managed the one thing I've been wishing for you for a long time, I hope you enjoy freedom. Second; there are things I can't put in a letter if it is too be approved by the authorities but can I ask you prepare yourself for the worst, just in case?_

The handwriting became slightly shaky and Harry noticed a slight change in the texture of the paper.

_Harry, it's strange thinking you're actually going to be free as I'm writing this, especially considering my own future isn't half as certain, if you'll accept I'd like to apologise for not protecting you. For enslaving you in the first place I'm afraid I can't; it brought you to me and I'd die before I gave that up. If you think you can stomach seeing me __again or even want to, you're always welcome at the manor. I hope you'll come but if you don't I'll understand._

_Love Always, Draco._

If it wasn't smudged before Harry's own tears did the job well enough. His hand was shaking as he set it aside and pulled a portfolio of property towards himself. He'd had all his monies returned and the entire old Potter holdings which didn't include Godric's Hollow as that had been demolished completely about three months after Voldemort's rise to power. Then at the bottom, taped to the parchment with spellotape were three rings. Harry stared.

He pulled them off carefully one by one. The first he recognised as his own; the one Draco had worn in the most recent of his memories and his previous owners before that. He knew, somehow, that wearing it himself was just another way his emancipation had been made official- every free person wore their own. Harry put it on the smallest of his fingers on his right hand and it tightened until reaching a comfortable fit.

The next two rings were more complicated- they belonged to others. Harry examined them closely and it became clear very quickly exactly who they belong to… or whatever. The first was the traditional platinum band but it was embedded with three different stones. Recognition hurt. The first was an emerald, the second a sapphire and the third a diamond. Harry would have known Draco's ring anywhere. His ears were ringing, he couldn't guess why, how … anything. He just held the ring in his hand as if to a float while trapped at sea. He didn't know why, but as if being ordered he opened his palm and slipped the ring onto his left hand (ring finger) and leaned back as the onslaught of information hit him.

Every thought Draco had ever entertained, every sensation he'd ever felt, everything that had happened in the last few days. Draco's sudden realisation, Draco recognising that there was a connection between them, Draco coming- searching- for him. Harry forced himself out of the bed when Draco stopped outside the door; the empathy was telling Harry that his former master was on his knees out there. With no small amount of trepidation Harry pulled it open.

When he saw Draco he ushered the blond in quietly and shut the door. As soon as it shut Harry pulled Draco to his feet without a word. He could do little more than stare; Draco had been tortured- badly, his nerves kept firing off randomly giving him the impression of being extremely twitchy. Then there was the look, the absolute desperation framed in features that Harry had long since memorised. He pulled the blond into his arms; not knowing or caring. At first he though it was Draco's nerves but then he realised that the man was crying heavily into Harry's own chest. Harry looked around carefully.

The bed was a mess of papers and files and god-only-knew-what and there were no chairs by the bed, not one to give up, Harry pulled Draco even closer and eased them both to the floor whispering a silent tirade of nonsense as he did so.

"Draco?" Harry had to know, "Why?" the blonde didn't lift his head.

"_Vos __es __meus __vinco__…_It was this or death, Master." Harry felt physically sick but he couldn't bring himself to push Draco away, "I trust you."

"Don't." Harry's instinct was to tell Draco to run, to leave and never come back, to just go. He looked down and lifted Draco's chin until their eyes met. It seemed that Harry was spellbound; he almost tripped over his tongue. "How do you know that working for me would be preferable to death?"

"I know nothing, Master, but I have faith…" he averted his gaze and Harry let go if his chin, it fell back onto Harry's chest as if Draco had the intention of never moving again. Harry found himself resting his head on the top of Draco's hair and crying silently; he didn't think he'd ever hated himself so much.

"_Vos __es __meus __vernula__."_

=X=

FranTran; Obedient, devoted, loyal.

LatinTran; you are my master, you are my servant

All reviews are accepted gratefully... *hinthint*... if I get enough interest i might write a sequel.


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